In Public

I had never felt so much from a simple brush of hips. When she settled behind me on the crowded bus, I knew that ride wouldn’t end like the others.

She descended from the plane of pleasure into a Ruzafa apartment, and when the street’s desire brushed her skin, she knew no loose clothing could contain her.

I took my time handing her coat over, enjoying the way men looked at her. I never imagined one would dare that much in front of me.

You didn’t know us from Adam, but you spent the whole afternoon with your hand in your swimsuit, watching us play. And we knew it from the start.

I got out of the car ready to defend him and ended up seeing him with a stranger on his lap. What I did next wasn’t planned: I simply stopped being afraid.

She cried drunkenly on my shoulder saying nobody wanted her anymore. She had no idea that the very same night, out on the sand, I was going to prove exactly the opposite.

I never thought that seeing another man look at my naked girlfriend, legs spread open on the sand, would be the most arousing thing I’d ever feel.

No one on that trail could imagine what I was wearing under my clothes, or the wild woman the brush of the air finally woke in me that afternoon.

I’d been imagining it for weeks. That dawn I opened the gate, stepped onto the asphalt, and knew I wouldn’t stop until someone saw me.

I thought the spa was empty until I heard the laughter. Five young voices, five gazes that never left the wet white bikini against my skin.

My wife pulled a brochure from her purse and told me we had a meeting that afternoon. I had no idea that saying yes meant giving up being the only man in her bed for fifteen days.

When Lucía started staying over at our house, I still didn’t know how far she was willing to go. That night, in front of everyone, she took off her dress without anyone asking.

I was kneeling on the passenger seat when he whispered his girlfriend’s name. I looked up through the tint: she was walking toward the car.

No one knew my truth. I went to the matches just to watch his legs, until that afternoon he looked up and held my gaze as if he knew everything.

I started by filling balloons with warm water so I’d feel like I had breasts. I ended up gluing them to my nipples and finding a pleasure I didn’t know I was looking for.

I had never gone out into the street dressed like that. That morning, with the house all to myself, I decided it was the day to fulfill the fantasy that had been keeping me awake.

I dress like a man, but beneath my pants I wear lace. That morning, in the last subway car, someone noticed and couldn’t take his eyes off me.

When I turned to wash my hands, I saw him in the mirror: tall, gray-haired, with his zipper open and his gaze locked on mine. My night was just beginning.

I wanted them to imagine her from a distance. I didn’t expect her to organize the scene herself, or my screen-side accomplice to show up with a flashlight in his hand.

I had my fuchsia dress in my backpack and one idea in my head: that night, I was going to belong to whoever paid for me.